


In a Hopeless Place

by TheScholarlyStrumpet (equipoise)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, No depictions of sex but mention of non-con, Referenced prostitution, Tumblr Prompt, sex industry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-06 05:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5404403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equipoise/pseuds/TheScholarlyStrumpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: With her predecessor caught having sex in the Public Library, new Head Librarian Belle French is under immense pressure to project a squeaky clean persona. But her past as a high-priced escort comes back to haunt her when her ex-client Mr Gold moves into town.</p><p>This took a slightly darker turn but there's light at the end of the tunnel...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Belle ran her fingertips along the spines of several large tomes in the history section. They came away powdery with dust and she sneezed three times in rapid succession. Alright, that would have to go on the to-do list. A list which kept growing, due in part to the ridiculous demands of the Mayor.

Belle didn’t mind, not really. Because this was it – the dream job. It might not seem like much to the outside observer. But Belle knew better. She’d seen enough of the world by now to know that there really was no place like her sleepy little home of Storybrooke, Maine.

Well, Storybrooke wasn't where she was born, but she'd spent most of her formative years here. Before she'd gone away to college.  Before she'd met Madame Bleu. When she was still just a wide eyed girl, dreaming of the big, bright world out there. It felt good to be back here, where she'd been truly herself, unjaded and full of wonder.  

Belle was practically a different woman, now. She had seen and experienced so much, travelled most of Europe. She'd grown in unexpected ways, was still re-learning how to feel comfortable in her own skin. It hadn't been easy, but she'd reclaimed her path and she was determined to walk it her way. Her debt to Madame Bleu was paid free and clear. She was her own woman, once more. 

Belle knew she had been lucky. If not for one still mostly mysterious benefactor, she might have been under Bleu's thumb for years to come. Poor Astrid was ten years Belle's senior and had only just bought out her contract before Belle left.  And things, as they were, could have turned out so much worse...

Belle knew, had always known, that signing on with Madame Bleu was a risky idea. But her father has just died and what little inheritance there might have been had gone into escrow. She was two years into a very prestigious (and expensive) university, suddenly penniless, and mad with grief. Her scholarships would only cover so much. To stay on, she'd likely be in debt for the rest of her life...

She didn't know how Madame Bleu found her. Someone in the financial aid department, perhaps. All Belle knew was that she has rejected the offer outright, the first time. And the second. But Bleu was persistent. And persuasive, in her way. She told Belle that she needn't sleep with clients to make money. Older, rich businessmen liked being seen with a pretty girl on their arm. University would be paid, in full. All Belle had to do was spend time with a few lonely men. Sparkle at dinner parties with her beauty and wit. Charm them. 

In the end, the deal seemed too good to be true, but Belle found herself signing anyway. Bleu's smile was predatory as she snapped her briefcase closed. 

"Pleasure doing business with you, Belle. You'll need to pick a name, by the way. Some men become regulars, if they like a certain girl, enough."

Belle was trembling like a leaf, adrenaline coursing through her at the magnitude of what she'd just done. She blinked dumbly at the curtains behind Bleu. French lace. Something inside Belle bubbled up with a mad laugh. "Lacey," she grinned at her private joke. 

Bleu didn't get it. 

They made arrangements for "Lacey's" first assignment. 

And another after that. Then another. Between school and her new job, Belle was booked solid for weeks at a time. Which suited her fine. She liked staying busy. 

And then it happened. One night, just a little too much champagne. Her companion for the evening was handsome. A silver fox, her friend Ruby might say. She didn't understand why a man so good looking, who had such a clever way with words, would possibly need to pay for a woman's company. She'd all but said at much once the liquor loosened her tongue. 

He'd looked at her with a solemnity she wasn't expecting and a quiet sadness that took her breath away. 

"I'm a difficult man to love," he'd said, at last. 

Belle told him she disagreed and it made her heart glad to see his whole face light up at her words. She knew right at that moment that she desperately wanted to kiss him. 

That night, he had, hesitatingly, asked her to bed. 

They always asked. 

Usually, she said no. Politely but firmly. A few "dates" had been quite miffed and she knew it heavily impacted her tips. But Bleu had said it was always her choice. 

Belle was no blushing virgin, but she'd always been somewhat picky. And sex had rarely been as thrilling as it was depicted in movies and books. 

This particular evening, she was high on the excitement of an evening spent flirting with this enigmatic stranger on a yacht. The party had been dull, but he'd managed to make it interesting, whispering quips in her ear. A wickedly funny running commentary that kept her breathless with trying not to laugh aloud. 

They got back to his hotel and he held out a hand to her. No demands or expectations. Just a question in his soft brown eyes that she'd found herself answering with a kiss. 

He unraveled her far too easily, that night. Brought her out and made her gasp and pant. Played her body with delicate hands and an eager mouth. And for a few moments, she thought that, yes, she could fall in love with him. Instead, she fell into a deep, sated sleep. 

He was gone when she woke but he'd left a note calling her exquisite and several other adjectives that made her blush. And a check for roughly three times her monthly rent. 

She didn't even know his first name. 

Belle sat up in bed, thinking that she ought to feel cheap. Used. All those things that people said women who traded sex for money should feel. But she didn't. She'd had one of the best nights of her life and gotten paid what felt like a fortune at that time.

She wondered if it could always be like that. 

It wouldn't be, of course. But she couldn't have known that, then. 

She was still picky, but when she did say yes, she didn't regret it. It was never quite as good as that first time. The man with the gold-tipped cane and those eyes she could lose herself in. But her client base was growing. They were all screened by Bleu and never laid a rough hand or unwanted hand on her. And the money. Oh, the money was so seductive. She was building up a nice little nest egg. 

Over the summer, Bleu offered to fly her to Europe. Giddy and impulsive, Belle jumped at the chance. Still somewhat starry-eyed and tingling with the new found power within her own body, she didn't read the contract as thoroughly, this time. 

A whole summer of wining and dining, living in a villa overlooking the ocean. The finest of designer clothing on her back, red soled stilettos on her feet. She saw clients when she wished to and traveled as far as the trains would take her the rest of the time. She almost dreaded the return of the school year. 

That was when things took a turn. She was informed that she was now in Madame Bleu's pocket. The villa, the clothes, the caviar in the fridge. Those things had cost money. Bleu's European associate held onto her passport as collateral. She couldn't go to the authorities because she had known what she was doing was illegal. 

They moved her to a chintzy hotel, where she shared a room with three other girls, all in the same position. She only took outcalls, now. And always at Bleu's discretion. They kept her healthy and fed. But there were no more day trips unless it was on the arm of a client. 

They were not overtly cruel to her, but the feeling of being owned weighed heavily on Belle's spirit. She thought of escaping but she had nowhere to go. The men she saw were not unkind but she grew to hate them, anyway. Because without them, without their need to be pleased and catered to, she would not be trapped so far from home. She loathed their wandering hands and smug smiles. She retreated within herself, becoming a shell of the formerly free-spirited girl from that little town in Maine. Her laughter rang hollow in her ears but they never noticed. 

When they snored beside her in a featherbed with 1000 thread count sheets, Belle cried herself to sleep. This was not sex, no matter how gentle they were with her. And she knew it. In a way, she'd always known. Only now that her choice had been taken away... 

By the time he came along, Belle was nearing her breaking point. 

Mr. Gold.

Her first client. The one she'd first let kiss her and take her to bed. It was barely a year but it felt a lifetime. How he'd managed to locate her in a small town along the Mediterranean, she didn't know. She didn't want to know. 

But when he kissed her, she began to cry. Taken aback, he begged her to tell him what was wrong, to let him help her. She wanted to believe him. Wanted to know there was one man left in the world worth trusting. 

So she did the brave thing and told him her story. 

The reaction was immediate. His anger filled the room. It was not directed at her. It made her tremble nonetheless. He left the hotel, his face a thundercloud. 

Belle waited, uncertain if she should stay. He did not return. Eventually, she fell into an uneasy sleep. 

She woke to a reedy, mustachioed man who introduced himself as an associate of Gold's. The man handed her a passport and a suitcase full of cash. Inside, a note in handwriting she'd recognize anywhere. 

_You are free. Go wherever will make you happy. I swear she will not follow._

The shock and disbelief only wore off as Belle deboarded in Boston and took a taxi to Storybrooke. 

She was home. 

She'd never finished her degree, but with a little fudging of her resume, she was able to land the job as town librarian. The previous had been fired under rather inauspicious circumstances - caught in the romance section, in flagrante with a local fireman. 

Ironically, Belle's public reputation was spotless. She'd been a good girl, once. A strong student who spent most of her extra time studying or reading rather than partying. 

After she'd moved into the small apartment above the library, Belle bought a tin basin. In it, she burned the outfit she'd worn on that final day that she'd belonged to Bleu. She turned off the smoke detector temporarily and watched as her past turned to ash. Lacey was no more. Reborn, Belle French had stepped into her library. 

Days went slowly, but Belle cherished every moment. She felt as though even the air she breathed was sweeter now. 

For all that newfound freedom, she couldn't make the nightmares stop. She woke sweating and thrashing away invisible hands on her body. She jumped when anyone approached her out of her line of sight. 

For days, she walked past Dr. Hopper's office, wringing her hands and keeping her head down. The man, himself, seemed nice enough. But he was still a man. How could he possibly understand? Eventually, she forced herself to go in. She left with a deep respect for his insight and a niggling sense of hope. 

She'd been back in town just over five months, now. Her sessions with Hopper were going well. He always knew when she was holding back and when to leave her the space she needed. He encouraged her to get out and make friends, but most Friday nights still found her in her library rather than the local watering hole. 

The library was quiet and still and she felt at peace, there, making her to do list for the next week. 

Her head whipped around at the sound of the door opening. Instinctually, her body went taut, all those brain chemicals pumping and primed for escape or confrontation.

"We're closed," she called nervously to the approaching footsteps. How had she forgotten to lock the door? Stupid, stupid girl. Foolish. She picked up the heaviest book on the shelf, poised to aim for the head, if needed. 

Into the light stepped a slight man with a cane. A ghost of her past, here in the flesh. 

Belle's mouth dropped open, blood roaring in her ears. "What... what are you doing here?"

He held out his free hand in a pose of supplication or, perhaps, surrender. "I swear I wasn't following you. I own the diner."

"Granny's?" She breathed, still clutching the book with white knuckled fingers. 

He nodded. "Aye, and a few other properties. I was just here to check on a few things. I've got a... a deal with Mayor Mills. Contracts to go over."

Belle said nothing, slowly lowering the dusty tome to her side. 

"I saw you in town, earlier and asked where I might find you. I knew it would be... quite a shock if we ran across one another in public," he continued. "Thought it might be... better this way." He frowned at her continued silence. "I'm... I'm so sorry to have frightened you. I just wanted to... I didn't want my presence here to cause you any undue... trouble." His chin dropped to his chest, shoulders slumped. "I'll leave you be."

"Wait!" Belle cried, leaving her book on the shelf and crossing toward him. A few feet away, she halted. "I... Thank you. I never got to. To thank you. For what you did for me."

His clean shaven cheeks colored and Belle suddenly remembered what it was like to brush her lips against that warm flesh. The memory was tainted now, but not by the man, himself. Mr. Gold had been her hero. Her knight in a shining three piece suit. But he'd also been a customer, once. A breed she'd come to revile. Her hands shook and she hated herself for this dichotomy of emotion. Some part of her longed to embrace her savior. But she feared him, as well. How did she know if he spoke the truth? How could she know he hadn't come to ask for repayment on the good deed he'd done?

"It was... no matter," he demurred. 

As though her life, her freedom was no more than a trifle. Pocket change to him, she supposed. While all it had done was change her world. 

"It mattered," she asserted, fiercely. 

Gold blinked at her, a tremulous smile curving his lips then gone in an instant. "You deserved so much more." He turned his gaze to the toes of his shiny shoes. "If it interests you, Madame Bleu is no longer... in operation." The hand on his cane flexed and Belle's eyes flicked to it. 

Her head spun. Bleu was gone. No other innocent girl would fall prey to her trap. A sob of joy rose in Belle's throat. Before she could think the better of it, she had thrown her arms around the man in front of her. 

Tentatively, his arms closed around her. One hand stroked her hair as her tears soaked his shirt and tie. 

She realized that this was the first time she’d let anyone touch her, beyond a handshake, in months. Some part of her found that almost poetic. Another part was appalled. She could only cry harder. 

When she'd quieted at long last, she pulled away. He released her without hesitation. 

 "How did you find me?"

He shook his head, "I swear to you, I didn't know you were here. I have a lot of properties on the East Coast and -"

"No." She waved a hand at him. "Not here. How did you find me... back there?"

"Oh." He looked away again, his expression pained. "I... I hadn't been able to stop thinking about you. I think that must be the only reason I kept Bleu's bloody card." An apologetic grimace. "I asked her where you were. She would only tell me 'abroad' at first. Until I named a price she couldn't resist. She gave me a hotel name and... I booked a plane ticket."

Belle's eyes went wide. "You flew out to Greece just to see me for a night?"

"I've no regrets on the matter." He studied her, imploringly. "Do you?"

Belle wanted to laugh only none of it was funny. "You're crazy."

He shrugged one shoulder. "Possibly."

"And you saved me. And all those other girls... Did they get their passports back, too?"

He nodded. "As many as I could find. One or two I had to leave with the embassy."

Belle swallowed thickly, processing all of this. "What's your name, Mr. Gold?"

If he was confused by the abrupt shift in her line of questioning, he didn't show it. "Gavin."

Gavin. Like Gawain. The knight of Arthur's round table with the purest of hearts. Of course he was a Gavin.

This time Belle did laugh. Gavin probably thought her nearly as crazy as she just deemed him to be. Maybe she was.

Because after everything, after the hell she'd been through this past year and the months spent reclaiming herself... She still liked the glint silver in Gavin's soft hair, the slightly crooked set of his nose and the crinkle of past laughter at the sides of his eyes. His face told a story she still wanted to know more about. And she could still remember the way he'd kissed, once. The way he'd touched her as though she were something precious. She wanted to feel that again, someday. On her own terms. 

Belle gathered all her courage to her. It was such a small leap to make, though it felt like a chasm. "Gavin... Have you ever had a hamburger at Granny's?"

His head tilted to the side, clearly wondering where she was going with this. "I have, yes."

"Well, I haven't. Not yet, anyway. And I've heard they're delicious."

His face brightened, Adam's apple bobbing as he got the hint. "I'd be honored to take you out for one, sometime. Anytime."

"How long are you in town?"

"I work remotely. I can stay as long as you like," he blurted, having the grace to look abashed as the eager words escaped. 

Belle smiled, the tightness in her stomach easing a bit. "Let's just start with dinner, shall we?"


	2. Tumblr Prompt follow up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Hopeless place: How did their hamburger date go?

Conversation was stilted, at first.

Gold was being overly cautious. Belle could tell. She appreciated the intent, but it had been so long since she’d felt comfortable talking to anyone. She wanted a real conversation. Longed for the connection they’d shared the night they met.

Their feet bumped under the table. Gold smiled shyly and scooted back in his seat.

“I’m not made of glass,” Belle said, at last, softening the words with a smile of her own. “You don’t have to be so careful.”

Gold looked chastened. “I suppose I just didn’t know what to expect. We were never really… introduced as ourselves.”

Belle looked around. The diner was empty, for now. Dinner rush was long ended. The evening crowd wouldn’t spill out of the bars for a while yet.

Granny had given them an odd look when they shuffled in together. But after taking their order, she’d disappeared to the back.

Taking a deep breath, Belle extended her hand across the table. “I’m Belle French. Born in Australia, raised here in Storybrooke, Maine. I’ve… been known to make a few bad decisions but I’m getting my life back on track. I love books and anything imaginative. My favorite place in the world is my library.”

Gold grinned and shook the proffered hand. “Gavin Gold. I never use my first name because I hate the alliteration. I… have an adult son who lives in New York. I love good scotch and appreciate a clever mind. I was born in Scotland and I’ve lived all over the world. Right now, my favorite place is in Storybrooke, Maine. Sitting in Granny’s Diner across from the loveliest woman I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet.”

Belle’s face heated, her heart giving an unfamiliar thump. “Well then. I’d say we’re off to a good start, already.”

Gold raised an eyebrow. “Are we?”

“Mmhm. We have something in common, now.” Belle slid her hand across the table to cover his. “Because I think Granny’s just made it to the list of my favorite places, too.”

Gold flushed to his hairline, his gaze dropping away then back to hers. “Clearly, you’ve never tried the lasagna,” he quipped.

Belle blinked at him for a moment, then threw her head back and laughed. After a moment, Gold’s baritone laughter joined hers. The joke was not that funny and they both knew it. It just felt good, natural even, to laugh with him like this. So much heavy past between them and here they were, giggling like schoolchildren.

As the last chortle faded, the tension broke like a spell from a fairy story. They fell into a easy, companionable conversation about everything and nothing in particular.

It turned out to be a truly lovely evening and they soon decided to plan another. Then another, after that.

By the end of the week, Granny no longer looked shocked when they arrived for a late dinner, hand in hand.


End file.
